Burning Shadows
by KoizumiESP
Summary: A short prologue of a fantasy epic I'm writing. I a world with magic and monsters, see how bureaucracy gets in the way. Will post the next chapter roughly every two weeks.
1. Chapter 1

_Prologue_

The sound of running echoed down the alleyway and through the streets around. The moons were whole and shinning, but barely visible though the torrents of rain that thrashed down, and the sea of dark grey clouds that grew to fill the sky. You'd struggle to see more than 15 feet in this rain, such was its force. Puddles formed and large bins reflected the rain back up, thundering and bouncing with each rain-bullet. The sky flashed a brilliant white blue, as a fork of lightning reach down into the alleyway. Reaching, searching for something, for someone. And still the sound of running could be heard. Getting closer.

A dark figure, hooded and cloaked, concealed from the rain, and from prying eyes, moved swiftly from shadow to shadow. His foot splashed through a puddle, soaking his leg and sending more water skyward. And with that splash to cover his darkened escape, he swept into a doorway. Once more into the shadows, and into the building.

He brushed the water off, and lowered his hood, taking in his surrounding. The room was simple and familiar. A small fire starting to go out along one wall, with a square table and three chairs around it on another. Another figure stood stoic in the centre of the room. Also cloaked, and hooded. The wet man bowed slightly to the dry, and handed over a rolled sheet of parchment, bound in pale blue silk with a wax seal pressed in.

The second figure took the bundle, turned on their heal, and vanished down a trap door. Hastily moving through an underground passage. An old smuggling tunnel perhaps. She was still walking, but knew that some less than desirable company would not be far behind. Her pace quickened, into almost a run, as the cloak billowed out behind her. The air beat her face, and forced her hood down. She was an average looking girl, beautiful but stern. Thin, with shaggy hair. However, that was the only thing that was average. Her skin was blood red, and eyes to match. Hair was brown, but in the low passage light, it was as black as her eyes and cloak. Two deep red horns, grew from her head. Short, curved, and sharp, but somehow beautiful.

Her breath visible in the cold, but still she ran. Further and further away from that trap door.

_It's done, _the wet man thought to himself, _in a few days this will all be over._ He took off his robe and lay it on the floor by the fire to dry, before taking a seat at the table to rest. He could just feel his eyes closing and sleeps hold growing stronger. Peaceful at last. Yet just as he let his defences down, and the sword dropped from his grip to the floor,the cold touch of metal made itself known upon his neck,

"This is for your lies," the blade slowly cut his neck. Thinly, like a paper cut. "This is for the villages I've burnt down searching for you," a swift flurry of movement and a pale wet hand fell down to join the sword that it had held just moments ago, "and this, dear friend, is for that stunt you pulled on the bridge. It's because of that that I'm late. And because of that I need to start searching from scratch. That is unless you want to live?"

For the first time the armed figured stepped from behind the wounded man. His face was thin and gaunt. His eyes slightly sunken and dark. White hair was swept back out of his pale face. Blue lips curled up into an eerie smile anticipating the next stages of conversation, and the outcome he wanted. He too wore a cloak, wet also, but with the hood down, it became easier to see the emblem he bore. A blacksmith's anvil, being stuck by a bolt of lightning. It was a sigil all to familiar, and to haunting to face.

The first man sat, frozen in fear. Though not just fear. Frost had begun to form on his cloak. Anywhere he was wet, he was now also freezing.

The pale armed man gentle placed his hand on his victims shoulder, and with the other, drew his blade once more across the throat. This time with speed. He did not want survivors.

It was done. He wiped the dagger clean on the cloak of the dead, and let his body slump to the table, as the frost continued to spread over him. He drew out a sheet of his own, beaming the same symbol as his robe, and using a long finger nail, he struck through his victim's name, and started to read.

"Now, I wonder who you told about your little discover? No matter, whoever it was, they won't live long enough to tell anyone else." he left the room, back into the street, where the rain persisted in it's attack on the ground. He walk slowly down the alley way and began to fade into the mist, until he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

A mother and son walked through the grass courtyard. There were bushes around the edges of the hexagonal garden that stretched forty meters from side to side. On the north and south faces there were stone archways inlaid with golden symbols of snakes and dragons, and a guard in silver armour, purple cloak and armed with a halberd stood on either side of each entrance. There were stone slab pathways snaking around the garden's edges, and working their way from each entrance to the centre, where a great plinth stood. It was steel, and reached about seventy meters towards the sky. The royal family alone knew what was held on top of that massive structure, while the rest of the kingdom either didn't care, or were driven mad trying to find out.

She was tall, with red hair and a silver jewelled headband, and a pale face, wearing a silk blue dress with a silver trim trailing behind her. He had the same hair and pale face. A purple tunic with small gold hems on the sleeves and neck line. The mother walked her son towards the metal obelisk, telling stories and answering questions. He would be emperor one day, so he needed to know their history.

"Which is why magic is illegal Zanice"

"Magic yes, but what about people who can use it? We have hundreds of wands and staffs and all sorts of magical stuff locked away. Surely that's enough?"

"Oh my boy, I wish it were. You know it pains me to arrest people just for being who they are. To arrest them for a crime they were born with. But it was magic that killed you grandfather. And magic that looms as a constant threat to the safety of our people"

"They haven't done anything wrong though mother. And they have no weapons or staffs. They're just people. They're our citizens"

"True. But a man planning on killing his wife is also one of our citizens. So is his wife. We need to protect everyone. By arresting that man, we save him from his crime, and save his wife's life. It's the same with magic. If we arrest people before they do anything dangerous, we can save lives, and even protect people from becoming something worse"

"But why must we arrest wizards mother?"

"My dear, they are too powerful. Can you imagine the kinds of spells that exist? Your grandfather knew of spells. The are wizards who can make fire in their bare hands, or control your mind, and even some so powerful that they can become dragons. We can't protect our lands against that level of danger"

"Not all magic is bad mother. The servants in the kitchen told me about healing magic, and a man who had his arm regrown after a sword cut it off"

"that's just as dangerous Zanice, with that kind of magic, a wizard can never die. Imagine killing an enemy, and having him come back to life right before your eyes"

"I guess that is dangerous, but I don't think all wizards are evil"

"No, no my prince. There are good magics and bad, but it is the people who are evil. Just as some men have honour, and others are thieves, some wizards will only use The Dark for power"

"what's that mother?" the child looking both intrigued and frightened.

"Ah yes, your teachers won't have taught you about that yet. Well would you like to learn the history of magic?"

"Will I need this to rule Andrulla?"

"every emperor and empress has needed to know about all aspects of their kingdom. Now, you know that the Drake Kin and the elves can use magic better than humans,"

"But I've heard of humans who could defeat other mages in duels..."

"that's right. Well, there are many kinds of magic, but they all come from two sources. Most comes from dragons. Because they are made of magic, They can do almost anything. Even turn into humans. Which is where Drake Kin come from, you remember?"

"Yes, master Vicros told me that thousands of years ago the dragons turned into humans, to create a new race. He said that the result was Drake Kin. And that even now, every Drake Kin carries a small piece of dragon blood, meaning they have the natural magic ability, but it is useless without learning spell craft"

"Very good Zanice. But we were talking about the sources of magic. Dragons are one source, but there is another. Almost six hundred years ago, a human named Gelnar became a wizard. The first human to use magic. He did this by opening a doorway to another world. When he returned from that world, he was different. He was changed and had powers. He had been to the place we call The Dark. It's rumoured to be a haunting place. No light, or colour, but shadows and monsters that prey on all who travel there"

The young prince was obvious scared as he clenched his fists tightly around his clothes, but the empress continued,

"Gelnar drew his power from the Dark, but later learnt that he could draw magic from any dark place. A persons shadow, or in the woods without moonlight, or simply an empty room with dark corners. This was the true terror. He could travel from any shadow to any dark place. More and more humans ventured into that realm, until the realm didn't let them go. They were trapped in The Dark, feeding off each other, becoming more desperate to see the sun, and growing more accustomed to darkness. The Dark realm twisted and tainted them. Warping their very souls until all their humanity had been stripped from them."

She took his hand to reassure him, and the pair sat on a white stained oak bench beneath the column.

"These practitioners of magic are tainted by the Dark, and with each spell they become more corrupt, until they're just husks. Shadows of the men they used to be. Our best scholars think that those wizards trapped in the Dark have been exposed to that realm for so long that they've either died, or become something em tiredly new. Something dark. Or may be something Dark. Which is where the rumour of Shades comes from, understand?"

He paused, and thought a while, before delivering his answer, "I think so. But if the Dark is where the taint comes from, why is dragon magic illegal?"

The empress tossed his hair, and chuckled.

"Ah the innocence of youth," she smiled, "Can you tell the difference between water from a river, and water from a lake?"

"erm... No"

"And it's just the same with types of magic Zanice. Not even the greatest scholar could say which was which just by looking. They would have to use magic to find out, which is illegal"

The air was quiet, and still, while the sun lightly heated the grass, and a soft breeze rustled leaves of bushes, the empresses' light blue gown, and the prince's hair. Everything was calm in the light. The mother and son talked more about magic and dragons, and their stories became less about history and more about adventure. Zanice always did love a good bedtime story, even if it wasn't bedtime. She told him about a brave knight who fought dragons, and conquered villains, and he hung on her every word. The sun moved across the sky, and soon the shadows cast were fantastically long. The empress and her son made to leave the garden, before the light left, and the Dark took over. The wind grew stronger, blowing their auburn hair this way and that as the pair left the courtyard,mbeing bowed to and then escorted by their royal guards.

Later that night, the mother was tucking her young prince to bed when he stirred up the conversation of that afternoon,

"Mother?"

"Yes Zanice?"

"Do you think one day there won't be any magic?"

"what do you mean my dear?" she brushed back his hair and continued listening.

"Well, if we keep making magic illegal, do you think one day there won't be any Drake Kin, or elves or wizards or anything?"

She thought about his question, and how an innocent mind works,

"Well, Zanice, fortunately, you and I are both human. As is most of the kingdom. There are other kings and queens around the world. Let them deal with magic in their own way, but here, we will stamp it out, regardless the cost. It's just too dangerous. You understand that don't you?"

"I guess so... So the elves can either move to another land, or stop being magic?"

"Yes. Something like that." She kissed his forehead, and tucked her son in for the night, before standing from his bed, "Now enough talk of magic. That's not the kind of thing to be filling the dreams of princes"

"No. I'm going to be a brave knight. Like in your stories"

"Oh really?" she chuckled, "a brave prince"

"The bravest in the world"

She turned and left his room, waving to him as she went, and laughed quietly to herself. Leaving Zanice laid in his room, with a lit lantern either side of time, under several wolf pelts and furs warming him. He felt warm and safe, but worried by grown up issues. His mother was teaching him things before he was ready. Still he was determined to dream of dragons and knights and rescuing princesses.

The empress made her way to her own bed chamber, followed by two royal guards in armour and purple cloaks, each carrying a halberd. Three hand maids also followed her majesty down the stone corridor. She paused at a window, and looked at the night sky. It was always beautiful in the city. Andrulla ready was a magnificent country, filled with such beauty- even magic can sometimes be beautiful. Her eyes traced upwards and took in the light of the moons.


	3. Chapter 3

The midday sun was glorious. Great beams of hot white and yellow light shone down into the square. Bright blue skies and merchants shouting from colourful stalls.

_Buy here!_

_Mines cheaper!_

_Finest goods in Amerass!_

Purple bunting was strung between buildings, royal guards seemed relaxed in their gold armour, but warm.

Towards the centre of the square stood a grand fountain. Deep blue waters flowing from and around a statue of a warrior prince. By his feet, children were playing and running around in dragon masks. The statue stood as champion, guardian and nanny to them all. A large paper dragon made its way about the square being carried by a group of elves. Dancing from stall to stall, and bobbing higher and lower, the elves moved with such grace that even the paper dragon looked alive. The Harvest Festival was always a joyous occasion, and no matter your race, class or creed, there was reason to celebrate.

Azzenra moved through the crowds and passed the stalls and vendors, towards the Felled Shade Tavern that found itself on the corner of the square. He strode with purpose and like a man who knew his business and where to go to perform it. He stopped beneath the tavern's swinging signand removed his hood. He was a Drake Kin, and that meant somewhere down the line, one of his ancestors was a dragon. If his red flesh wasn't a give away, then certainly his short curved horns would be. His hair down to his shoulders and anyone passing would know he had a tail under his cloak, even without seeing it, and in the right light, you'd swear his skin was actually very fine scales. He stood looking at the sign - a faded painting of a pale man being run through by a noble knight's glowing sword.

"This must be the place" he murmured as he set off into the building.

Inside the tavern various customers went by their business, drinking ales and wines and enjoying the festival. A pair of elves worked behind the bar, serving the crowd as fast as they could. Four human men shouting and heckling the gnomish bard on stage. There was an elf entertaining children with a variety of tales of adventuring or of the history of the elves. The children seemed to love it all, and clapped heartily.

The Drake Kin sat in a corner, signalled for ale and settled to observe the room, and the people. The low ceiling was decorated with more purple bunting, and several lanterns creating a dim glow that wasn't needed at the time in the day. Dank cream walls broken up by long wooden beams, both vertical and horizontal. The bar ran the full length of a side wall, and tables and chairs were crammed so close together that you couldn't help but over hear the conversations. Some talked of the festival, while others had more drunken slurs about the barmaids. A group of men spoke in such a twisted code that they must have been plotting something devious, but Azzenra had his mind on other things and elsewhere.

Sitting, he removed his cloak and set it down beside him, letting his tail curl around a table leg, he drew a series of papers from his satchel and began to unroll them just as the barmaid brought his drink. She put it down and left, and in doing so dropped a roll of paper wrapped in ribbon. She knelt, and picked it up.

"So sorry to 'ave knocked this m'lord," handing it back to him with a surreptitious bow.

"That's quite alright my dear," he spoke softly, "but when you have a moment I'd like some nourishment. It is the Harvest after all."

"Certainly m'lord," and with that she swept away, collecting empty cups as she went.

The day grew cooler and darker, as various patrons came and left the tavern. Azzenra remained at his table sorting papers and writing on maps, the candle on the wood had burnt down to just wax, and was almost out, and he looked exhausted. A portly man approached the table, dress plainly, and in an apron, alike the serving maids.

"You look tired friend," he began, "the festival is almost over, and I'm sure your papers can wait til morn. Why not stay the night? I've some rooms upstairs and The Dark isn't a place that anyone wants to be alone"

"I'm not afraid of the Dark," Azzenra started offended, "and I'm more than aware of the risks. But I am tired. And you're right, afraid or not, the Dark is no place to be alone. I would appreciate your hospitality sir"

The Drake Kin stood, and followed the owner up the stairs to one of the rooms, leaving the tavern to settle down. The bard still performing some song about a toy shop. The men still drinking more and more ale, singing their own words to the bard's song. And the serving girls were washing every cup, glass, mug and flagon in the building, because almost all of them had been used during the festival.

When he reached the room a cold wind blew into his face, _refreshing,_ he thought. The room was the same as the bar. High beams of wood and pale chipped paint. A thin wooden bed, and floor lamp. Oil he assumed, as the flame mustn't go out overnight. The Dark mustn't get in. He let his things fall to the bed and folded his cloak.

"It's not much m'lord, but it's better than outside." the bar keep turned with more grace than the man's figure would suggest, "Oh and if you need anything, my room is downstairs, good night sir"

"Thank you. Earth Mother watch you" and with that he was alone once more. He sorted his papers back into their correct order, and hid them between the folds of his cloak and stashed them all together under the bed. Finally he lay on the bed and tried to let sleep take him. It would be dawn soon. Light soon.

He awoke to a scream. A loud piercing scream- a woman screaming, in fear. It was still dark, and his lantern had almost ran out of oil. The noises of a struggle down stairs, but also out his window. Screams were coming from inside the tavern and out. Azzenra rose, donned his cloak, folded the papers into his pack and grabbed the lantern.

"I've stayed too long. I'm so sorry, this is my fault" he whispered to himself, "Forgive me Earth Mother"

He made his way to the stairs, and saw others waking and leaving their rooms to investigate the commotion. The bard was there, dressed and carrying a loaded cross bow, there was a human also whose sword was half drawn from its scabbard. A lion mouth biting into a sapphire made up its handle, with worn leather grip. The blade was well used to battles, hopefully the human was too. It felt like their skills would be needed and tested tonight.

The three moved down stairs, as the other customers stayed in the hallway, waiting for news. Downstairs, there were tables broken and flung across the room, and bar stools destroyed, leaving steaks of wood everywhere. And there by the bar the incident causing all this noise was. The serving girl from earlier lay dying behind the bar, her lifeblood spilling on the wooden floor. Yet no aid could be given to save her, as the one responsible had already set its sights on the bar keep. A Shade. Pale skin, and sunken empty eyes where all the three could see other than the immense blackness of its cloak. Thats the only thing it could be. Dark tendrils weaved their way from his outstretched arms towards the portly barkeep. His bluish lips moved as soundless words were uttered. Some Dark magic focused on the tendrils. Focused on killing that man, and any other it met. The tendrils vanished suddenly, and the Shade's lips stopped moving. He glanced down and notice the crossbow bolt that had struck his chest. It had happened too fast for Azzenra to see, but another bolt shortly collided with the Shade.

"Good! Now that we have your attention," the bard shouted, then his voice changed somehow. Almost as though he had three or even four voices, all speaking at once, "leave this man" the gnomes eyes glisten briefly in the light of the lantern.

Whatever manner of magic was at work here clearly it was no match for The Dark. The Shade steadied himself and danced his hands around the bolts protruding from his chest, as they faded away into darkness, leaving no holes or wounds at all. The battle began. The gnome shot his crossbow, and the man swung the blade, seemingly in vein, as the Shade either dodge attacks, or made any hit seem as little more than a paper cut. It was taking too long. More Shades would be here soon. Azzenra fumbled in his pack for something, and moments later ran to the barkeep, with a small stone clutched tightly in his hand. The Shade moved on this opportunity to strike, pushing its arms out and sending dark tendrils towards the man with the sword and the gnome, and blasts of energy towards the fat man and the Drake Kin. A sphere of gold white light erupted instantly when the energy was near enough, forming a shield bubble around Azzenra, spreading out from the stone in his hand. The gold light danced like lightning and moved back towards the source of the attack, towards the Shade. More and more of the shield danced along the path of light and surrounded their attacker. Overwhelming him. Dancing over his robes and along his face. Lighting every darkness, moving faster and faster. A blur of gold and black in equal measure. Faster and faster, each time a bit less black and a touch more gold. It stopped as suddenly as it had began, and behind the wall of light where the Shade had stood was nothing, save the many rings burnt into the wooden floor.

Screams still echoed in the square from other houses and taverns.

Azzenra spoke first, "We should get out of here, there'll be more of those things on the way, and this rune stone needs to recharge. Is there another way out of here?"

The barkeep paused, before looking over to the girl who had died, "by her... By there, theres a door to the cellar and at the back behind the dusty wines is a passage way. Old smuggling tunnel I think."

"I'm sorry she couldn't be saved, but many more will share her fate if we can't get out of Amerass"

"But she... I mean... Her body?... We can't just leave her... Of course." he sighed and showed the three the tunnel, as stale wind blew at their faces, " I only know it'll take you out under the city. I'm not sure where the exit is."

"Thank you again friend,"

"What if those things return? You said more would be coming. Please I don't want to die..."

"You'll be safe friend, the Earth Mother will watch you," the Drake Kin raised his hood, and shook the mans hand, "I swear you'll be safe tonight. I'll take my leave"

"Not without me." the human spoke up, "The whole towns falling to these things, and my blade was useless, if you have a way to fight these things, count me in. I'll not stand by while the whole Dragon Mouth falls"

"And me," echoed the gnome, "with the tavern gone I've no job, and I have no intention of sitting down and dying quietly for those Things. So it seems we're coming with you."

"So it would seem. I'm Azzenra."

"Zaide," the gnome replied, "and you human, your name?"

"I am Lord Tomaas of Hadrilnal" he stated like a man who had introduced himself with full title a hundred times, "but if we're to shed blood together Tomaas the Swordsman will suffice"

Azzenra smiled at his two new companions, turned and started to walk away, "Well come on now, we must hurry. It's a long run, and a longer ride to where we're going"

Leaving just the barkeep alone in his cellar. He stood a while and watched the three men running down the tunnel, and running out of sight, til all that could be seen was a faint glow of a lantern far in the distance. He opened his palm, and gasped to see the Rune stone that had saved his life. May be he would survive the night after all. If he did he vowed to thank that Drake Kin one day. For this had been a Harvest Festival he wouldn't soon forget.


End file.
